Beyond this point

Beyond this point

With not the wit to

comprehend

His role in Nature's Play

Quite separate from

the scheme of things

He mastered all

he could survey.

And thinking it

A place that's strange

Of almost infinite resource

Imposed on what he can't

admire, some monument

that's set in stone

To ignorance

And sometimes worse

To those, a plague a curse

Who'd measure what

The profit yeild

To burn the cattle

In the field

And think there nothing

much amiss

What kind of progress this?

Or use to ask

What we have done

When fields and trees

and rivers gone

And those who keep

The Common Good

have left a legacy that read

Caution you must be afraid

Beyond this point

There's Poison Laid.

The Photograpg is a view looking

west from Tara.

Enough said!

The poem is from the time of the foot

and mouth crisis.